Depth Perception
by Inguz
Summary: After a near fatal car accident, Kenith, a struggling artist tries to come to terms with the hospitalisation of his girlfriend and a bizzare series of events that begin to occur.


(This is in revenge to the Fanfiction scum who took it off before! It'll never die! Muwahahahahahahaha!)

Chapter 1: Crimson Tides

_"The beginning is simple to mark."_

Every thing seems to be perpetually silent beneath the exterior of the car, with disregard to the accompaniment of an invariable bass-line of the tyres treading against the uneven tarmac and scattered pebbles of the desolate country road. From above, the moonlit glow on the windscreen reflects the shadows of dying leaves that autumn has yet to claim. A pool of imagery that lies in waiting, a sort of frailty.

We proceed downwards, into the burnt sienna canopy of nothingness, followed by the impending dusk.

As the monotonous hums from the car's engine translate into vibrations, rising up into the window, where my right hand has rested for the past half-hour; I glance over to the passenger's seat, where Abigail resides. She has been seated there in an almost somnolent position for the entirety of the journey, unspeaking. Upon lingering on the blank thoughts of the night, everything almost unintentionally proceeds onwards, as if unknowingly guiding me to the contemplation of our final destination.

Without warning the window is set ajar by Abigail, the slender fraction causing an almost cyclonic up-draught in the centre of the car. As the breeze melds with that of the air conditioning cigarette buts begin to dance with the ash contained inside: within the depths of the of the slightly disjointed tray. As the white soot rises upwards it only seems to rest upon the already tattered upholstery, that gleams with dirtied crimson. The blank speckles caress each other, almost as if feathers.

_Inadvertently our glances met; at first I was unable to decipher the realisation of danger that had become apparent upon the surface of Abigail's eyes. Blind to the oncoming peril I continued onwards. _

As her pupils begin to dilate Abigail sinks back into the small of the seat, opening her mouth, as if to iterate something but no sound surfaces, as if all is lost. Concurrently, almost unbeknownst to me, the breaks screech and the car swerves to avoid… Being so detached from the situation I can only paralytically gaze on as the vehicle swerves violently out of control. The rapid, almost centrifugal motion pulls my eyes upwards, exposing their blood-shot whites.

Rather than having an out of body experience or events running in slow motion, erratic and nonsensical thoughts surge through my mind's eye, momentarily darkness ensues, broken by an urgent cry "Kenith".

As the sinking feeling in beneath my stomach descends I glance upwards through the now cracked, mosaic glass of the windscreen; shattered by some sort of collision. I can only watch on as the front of the car draws itself ever closer to a crystalline surface, almost magnetic. A crow sounds its call.

The hood of the vehicle breaks through the surface of the water with a foreseen impaction but the sound is negated by the crack of Abigail's scull impacting upon the dashboard. The humble aluminium frame of the car shudders violently with the rapid collision, shaking Abigail's now marionette like and unconscious body. Almost cinematically white water proceeds to surge in through the gaps in the floor, saturating my textile shoes and lending a fleeting, invigorating feeling in comparison to that of my prior dazed nausea. Instantaneously, like a motor reflex, my hand violently grapples at the door-handle, to no effect, the pressure in the car being too high to gain leverage against the onset of water. After the discovery the windows were short circuited the realisation occurs that the car has to sink before we can surface. Again my mind begins to drift with the gurgling rush; it's barely audible laughter taunting my every move.

The temporary buoyancy of the car has now departed, going head first; the floundering vehicle begins to submerge beneath the rippling water. Below the surface the headlights create an effect of luminosity as if to highlight the watery grave; murky shadows dance in the depths, beckoning to us. The light flickers amidst the suspended silt, barely highlighting the silhouettes of long sunken cities and broken smiles.

Suddenly, to my perplexion, I notice an ink like substance wavering around my waist. Blood, suspended in the water. Still almost drifting in and out of consciousness I flash back to my childhood, holding my cut finger below the surface of the stream, peering into the rushing current of blood, departing from its diagonal fissure.

Abigail's seat is now tilted backwards, it sways back and forwards with the enclosed tide. All but her nose and mouth are completely submerged. For a split-second I watch as the meniscus of the water around her painted lips breaks, giving her lip-gloss a phosphorus glow. I then find myself climbing over her seemingly lifeless body to try to pull her chilling body to a better vantage point, in the back seat; dually gasping for oxygen in the shrinking air bubble. All is now vertical.

In the face of certain death no one expects to experience a frightening comfort beneath the waves. To be soothed by the rising oxygen bubbles, almost resembling floating spheres of glass, crystal marbles. Being so close to becoming one with the water is exactly like the moment when you awaken from a vivid dream, only to realise that you're still sleeping. This is the fleeting moment, where all senses are at their most perceptive level. Bringing your foot through a glass pane is like breaking through the winter ice, in times long past.

The radio still seems to sound, down there, it laughs on, like the child beside the hospital bed, illusively enough.

The path soon opens, the light descends. Surfacing.

* * *

Well that's it... I'm not posting anymore here cause it'll obviously be removed but wait till it's on :) I'm going to do an edit soon when I feel able.

Sayonara


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